


Variations on a Theme

by Sproid



Category: due South
Genre: Bondage, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproid/pseuds/Sproid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uses of Fraser's lanyard include: Meg tying him up with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations on a Theme

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seascribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seascribe/gifts).



> This fic is for anyone and everyone who has been involved in the various conversations about Meg tying Fraser up. I'm pretty sure this fic counts as a collaboration by at least half the people in the virtual bar. Thank you all for your excellent inspirational remarks :D
> 
> It's also for Seascribe, because we promised each other we would finish our ficlets, and we did.

“How’s that paperwork coming, Constable?”

Fraser looks up, wincing as his shoulders pull at the movement, and finds Meg watching him from the doorway. With a sigh, he replies, “Slowly, sir.” 

Meg tilts her head in acknowledgement, and steps into the room. “I appreciate you taking this on.”

Fraser shakes his head, and sets his pen down on the table. A moment’s break while Meg is here won’t hold things up too much, and he’s more than ready for it. He’s been at it all morning, filling out tiny boxes and writing as neatly as he possibly can in only slightly bigger boxes, page after page of unfortunately entirely necessary forms.

“It’s not a problem, sir. Ray doesn’t require my help this week, so it makes far more sense for me to make myself useful here.”

“Even so, it’s hardly the most enjoyable of tasks.”

“No,” Fraser allows. “I almost find myself wishing I was on guard duty instead.”

That gets a brief smile from Meg, who replies dryly, “I’ll see what I can sort out for tomorrow then.”

Fraser feels his own mouth twitch into a smile at her teasing. “I’d appreciate it.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Meg nods and turns to leave. Fraser watches her for a moment, and has just turned back to his work when she draws his attention away again.

“Ben?”

He lets go of his pen, and twists around to look at her properly, putting the desk out of sight. “Meg?”

“Do you have plans this evening?”

“Other than recovering from the effects of far too much paperwork? No.”

Giving him a soft, promising look, Meg says, “Perhaps you’ll let me help with that then?”

“Gladly,” Fraser says, heart quickening just slightly. “I’ll tell Ray he doesn’t need to pick me up tonight then?”

Meg nods. “I’ll see you at five.” Then she adds, “Keep up the good work, Fraser,” and disappears into the corridor.

Warm at the brief praise, Fraser tucks his chair closer to his desk once more, and picks up his pen with slightly more enthusiasm than the last time. Thinking about what tonight might hold won’t make the afternoon go by any quicker, but at least it gives him something to look forward to.

\-- -- -- -- --

When Meg stops by Fraser’s office at the end of the day, he gives her a relieved smile that speaks to just how fed up he is, and joins her without needing to be prompted to leave everything be for the day.

“Come on,” she tells him, amused. “Let’s get out of here.”

Settling his hat on his head, he nods, and follows her to the car. 

As Meg drives, he tilts his head back onto the headrest, and sighs as he shifts in what Meg knows is a useless attempt to settle in when he’s still in uniform. Early on, she’d told him that he didn’t have to keep it on if he didn’t want to. She knows from experience that all that red serge, the buttons and buckles and starch, aren’t exactly conducive to relaxing. 

Head ducked down slightly though, Fraser had shaken his head, and said that he’d rather keep it on if he may. What Meg had worked out after not so very long, was that it wasn’t so much that Fraser wanted to keep the uniform on, as that he wanted _her_ to take it _off_ for him. Variations on that theme are now something they both enjoy on a regular basis.

They eat at Meg’s table, which has acquired a couple of candles and a tablecloth since she’s started sharing it with Fraser. They talk a little, Fraser more than Meg, odd bits and pieces of conversation that he sneaks little jokes into and looks delighted when she laughs at them. In between, she contemplates the evening ahead, and lets Fraser see it in the way she looks him over. When he drops his head but meets her eyes, and stays still for her until she goes back to her food, Meg enjoys a low curl of warmth in her stomach, and lets him see that, too.

When they’re done, they clear the table. Meg puts a hand on Fraser’s arm before he can head for the sink, and shakes her head.

“Bedroom,” she tells him, and he nods.

When she closes the door and turns around, Fraser is standing at the foot of the bed, watching her. Hands behind his back, feet apart and stance relaxed, he waits. As she comes to stand in front of him, he dips his head so that he can keep on looking at her, but other than that doesn’t move. Meg smiles, and lifts her hands to his collar, playing with the button and almost undoing it before she murmurs, “Strip. Boots first,” and steps back.

Surprise flickers across Fraser’s face, and Meg grins, knowing he was expecting her to undress him. Then she raises an eyebrow, and Fraser flushes slightly before dropping to one knee and starting on his boots. 

He looks good like that; dark head bowed, kneeling at the end of her bed, sure fingers working over shiny leather. When he’s got his boots off, he looks up, and Meg nods. He rises, fingers going to his belt without needing to be told, and keeps his eyes on hers as he undoes the buckles and straps that cross over his chest. His breathing quickens and his cheeks suffuse with red, but his shoulders are loose and he doesn’t fumble once.

The first time they’d done this, Fraser had been so nervous that he hadn’t been able to meet her eyes. Shaking as he tried to get the straps undone, he’d blushed with the fiery red of embarrassment even as he insisted in stammered but certain sentences that he _wanted_ to do it. So Meg had stepped forwards and closed her hands around his sweat-damp ones, gripping him tightly and pressing her lips to his cheek until he’d stopped shaking, and lifted his head. 

She’d kissed him properly then, and he’d opened his mouth to her, soft sounds of pleasure and need in the back of his throat for long moments until she drew back and met his slightly dazed gaze.

“Breathe, Fraser,” she’d told him. “You’re doing just fine.”

He’d quirked a smile at her, and said, “Am I? I don’t know how.”

A lack of experience, and worry of getting it wrong, was all that was bothering him. That was easily overcome with firm words and gentle touches had his breath catching in his throat and his eyes sliding shut. Meg had undone the straps with him, telling him which ones to take off, guiding his hands with her own and murmuring praise at every turn. 

That first night, Meg hadn’t quite been able to soothe away his nerves or lingering clumsiness. It hadn’t hindered their enjoyment in the slightest, and Meg had made damn sure that he knew he was welcome back in her bed any time he wanted.

Now, they’re well and truly past that. 

Letting his shirt fall to the floor, Fraser meets her eyes without hesitation. The colour spreading down his neck, over his chest, is that of arousal rather than embarrassment.

“Trousers,” Meg says, and he nods. They’re gone in seconds, and she can see that he’s tenting his boxers already, his breath coming faster as she takes her time looking over him before she tells him to take those off, too. Then he’s standing there naked, hands behind his back again, licking his lips as he looks at her with everything he wants written all over his face. 

Meg wonders if he’ll ask for any of it tonight. Sometimes he does; other times he waits for her to prompt him; sometimes she doesn’t ask, and he doesn’t tell, and they still end up breathless and sweaty and entirely satisfied.

“Pick your clothes up, and fold them on the chair,” Meg tells him.

With a nod of acknowledgement, and without a word, he does as he’s told. Meg thought that perhaps after a day in the office, he’d be more verbal, but tonight he’s a man of few words. Maybe she’ll coax some out of him later on the evening; or perhaps tonight will be one where she does all the talking, and he does as he’s told with silent obedience and quiet gasps. 

When Fraser’s done, he walks back to her. With him he brings the one item that isn’t now neatly arranged on the chair. Across one open palm lies his lanyard, which he holds out to her, asking without words. Meg takes it from him, runs it around her fingers, playing with the thin rope while Fraser watches and swallows hard. Then he holds out his hands to her, palms clasped together, puts his wrists within her reach and murmurs, “Please.”

 _Yes_ , Meg thinks. It’s rare that Fraser asks to be tied up. He’ll hold the headboard willingly, he’ll keep his hands by his sides and twist his fingers in the sheets, he’ll drag her hands to his wrists and plead “tighter”. He needs no restraints to indicate his submission, and when he decides he wants them, he opts for being held in place by Meg’s body far more often than anything else. Meg has no objections to any of that, but the thrill of tying him up is not one that she’s going to turn down either.

Circling her fingers around his wrists, she gives him his answer with a firm squeeze before she loops Fraser’s lanyard around them. As steady as his hands are, she doesn’t miss his quiet gasp at the first touch of the rope, nor the way he shifts his stance just a little wider like he needs the balance. 

Placing one hand on his chest, she looks up at him. “Easy, Ben. I’ve got you.”

Breathing in slowly, he smiles, and leans against her palm. _I know_. She lets him stay there for a long moment, her arm firm against his heavy weight, until she’s satisfied that he really does know. When she presses back, he goes easily enough. This time, he stands firm as she wraps the lanyard once, twice, three times around his wrists. The rope looks good against his skin, and she ties the knot firmly before she checks in with him.

“How does that feel?” Meg asks.

Fraser wriggles his fingers, pulls firmly, twists his wrists, and nods. “It’s good,” he tells her, giving her the verbal confirmation she was about to ask for. “Not too tight, not too loose.”

“Good. Go and lie down, face up.”

She keeps an eye on him as he crosses to the bed, just in case, but having his hands bound doesn’t interfere with his balance at all. He settles on the bed and stretches out, resting his hands on one thigh, well away from his cock. With a smile and a nod that he can’t see, Meg undresses quickly and carries her clothes over to pile on top of his.

When she walks over to the side of the bed, he turns his head to face her, and though he’s seen her like this more times than she can count, his face turns soft and wanting and his breath catches in his throat. “Meg,” he murmurs, eyes wandering over her body, licking his lips when he meets her eyes again.

“Hands above your head,” she tells him. 

With one last look, he turns away, and brings his arms up to lie on the space he’s left above him. The way he holds himself looks uncomfortable, but he starts to relax when Meg joins him on the bed, settling herself low on his hips so his cock just brushes her ass. When she leans over him to close her wrists around his forearms, pressing them into the mattress with her weight, his eyes flicker shut. Then he reaches back, stretching his arms out until his fingers touch the headboard, holding himself against her in a taut arch for a moment until he breathes out and goes loose beneath her.

“Better,” Meg murmurs, and waits until his eyes open before she presses her mouth to his, parting his lips with her own and sweeping her tongue in to take what he gives her with a quiet groan. As she kisses him long and deep, she lets her body settle against his, tightens her thighs around him and gives in to the urge to rub against him, knowing he’ll feel her hot and wet against him, and that he’ll stay still as she takes her pleasure from him.

There are other ways she’d rather do this though, particularly suited to a situation where his hands are out of action. And if he doesn’t want to talk, well, she might as well put his mouth to good use doing something else.

When she moves up to kneel over him, Fraser looks at her with wide eyes, lips parted and wet from her kisses. Then she braces one hand against the wall and slides the other around to the back of his head to pull him against her, and he goes with a needy sound that’s muffled when he presses his mouth between her legs. Soft lips, hot tongue, sliding over her and into her, licking against her clit when she urges him on with firm instructions and a gentle tug to get him back where she wants him. 

She draws it out until her thighs start to shake with holding herself up, until she can feel sweat beading on her skin with the heat that’s curling through her, until she’s slick and wet and sensitive. Then she tightens her fingers in his hair, and he sucks and licks with the enthusiasm he’s been waiting to let him show her, in all the ways he’s learned she likes the best, until her orgasm hits her hard and fast and long while he carries on with soft sounds of pleasure and encouragement.

He opens his eyes when she eases herself back to lie against him, and she rests a hand on his chest, looking at him while he looks at her. His hair is dishevelled from the disrupting influence of her fingers, sweat-damp and disordered above dark eyes that watch her while he licks his lips, chasing the last of her taste rather than making an effort to clean himself up.

Still catching her breath, Meg reaches up to stroke down his outstretched arms as she tells him, “Nicely done.” 

She rubs her hands over his biceps, soft sure motions that reinforce the praise far more effectively than her words would, and he sighs. “Thank you,” he murmurs back.

Pressing a kiss to his chest, Meg decides he’s waited long enough tonight for his own release, and slides down his body to return the favour. At the touch of her mouth to his stomach, Fraser’s body tightens, anticipation taking over from his previous pliancy at her hands. Still though, he doesn’t move, just tilts his head back on the pillows and pants at the ceiling.

Even when she wraps her hand around him and rubs the fingers of her other hand behind his balls, he just breathes out her name and stretches his arms out to their full extent again. When she takes him in her mouth, he pants at the ceiling, and holds himself still save for the way he shakes and twitches at her touch.

Whereas Meg had been in control of his mouth earlier, he has no say in what she does with hers now; and whereas she had made him bring her slowly to orgasm, now she chooses to bring him to his hard and fast. There’s a tension in him that she wants to chase away, and does so with her lips and her tongue and her hand, slipping her fingers back to rub at his asshole and press just lightly, keeping at it until he lets out a hoarse sound and spills himself in her mouth.

He’s loose and limp and breathless when she works her way back up his body, and his tongue slides lazily against hers when she kisses him. “To use your words,” he says when she draws back, “Nicely done.”

She chuckles, and he gives her a wide smile that softens to contentment when she strokes his hair back from his forehead. A few moments later, he yawns, and says with a hint of reluctance, “Would you mind untying my hands?”

With one last kiss, she rolls off him, and unties his lanyard from around his wrists. “Easy,” she cautions, keeping her hands on his for a moment, just in case he’s not with it enough yet to remember to be careful. “Take it slowly.”

When he’s got his arms back at his sides, he pushes himself up to sit facing Meg, who holds out her hands and looks at him until he places his in them. “How’re they doing?” she asks, running her fingers over the already-fading lines from the rope.

Fraser flexes his fingers slowly. “Better than they were at five pm.” He opens and closes his right hand a few more times, and winces slightly. “Although the writer’s cramp appears to be lingering. I feel as though I’ve done enough writing for the entire Canadian government in one day.”

Taking his right hand in hers, Meg presses her thumbs slowly into the tight muscles there, watching as brief pain and then relief slide across his face. “Was that why you wanted your hands bound tonight?” she asks curiously.

“Hmm.” Fraser tilts his head to the side as he considers the question. “I’m not sure,” he says eventually, shrugging and offering her a brief smile.

“Let me know if you work it out,” Meg tells him, and leans forward to kiss him, because it had taken her long enough to get him to answer that sort of question, and even longer to convince him that it was alright not to have an answer.

“Alright,” he agrees. Then he lifts his hand, bringing both of hers with it, and brushes his lips to the back of one. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

He doesn’t need to thank her, but he does need her to let him, so she does. 

“It’s my pleasure, Ben. And thank you.”

Then she pulls at his hand and drags him to the shower, where he takes the soap from her and takes his time washing her with careful hands that occasionally dance over her ribs, drawing startled laughter from her and making him grin as she squirms away. He hands the soap over when she glares at him, and lets out not-quite-giggles when she traces her fingers around his belly-button. With hot water soaking over both of them, they share gentle kisses, until Fraser’s eyes start to droop close and Meg decides she’d better get him out of the shower while he’s still awake enough to walk.

He doesn’t bother with pyjamas, just slides naked under the covers, watching her sleepily while she pulls on a soft t-shirt that used to be one of his. Then he gathers her to him with a sigh, wraps himself around her, and falls asleep moments after she puts her hand around the back of his neck and rubs her thumb over the top of his spine. Meg carries on until his breaths have slowed all the way down, and then she lets herself join him, hand still curled around him to keep him with her, and keep him safe in his sleep.


End file.
